She made herself comfortable on the white leather bench and pulled out her sunhat. She peeked from beneath the wide brim at Bran.
His jaw firmed. “Suit yourself. Can’t say I’ll be much of a conversationalist.”
“When have you ever been?” she mumbled.
His eyes narrowed.
No problem with Bran’s hearing. “How is it that no one else could run the booze cruise except for you or Hunt?”
Bran pushed up the sleeves of his long T-shirt. The temperature this morning had been warm for Tahoe, and now—midday—it was in the eighties. “Levi has strict guidelines about who runs the boats. Only wants drivers fully trained in boat safety and CPR. We haven’t had time to train anyone else. Can’t say I blame him. With the number of idiots on the lake in the summertime, it’s better to be safe.” He untied the rope attached to the dock and said, “I’ll be back before the dinner rush, and that’s all that matters.”
So it wasn’t a big deal for him to run the booze cruise; he was just being difficult. Excellent.
Ireland eyed the cooler. “Are those beers for me?”
Bran popped his neck and glared at her. “Not all of them. I’m not in the mood to carry a drunk woman up the shore.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m five foot eight and a hundred and forty-five pounds. I can handle my liquor.”
He scanned her body as if she’d said something appealing, not admitted there were no size sixes in her closet. She wasn’t overweight for her height, but she certainly wasn’t willowy.
Ireland shifted, because Bran was still staring. And she didn’t think he was aware of it. “So, what’s on the schedule for the day?”
He finally lifted his gaze and handed her a beer from the cooler. She noted he didn’t take one for himself. “No schedule. We cruise. You have one or two beers. We head back.”
Ireland didn’t miss his commanding tone on the number of drinks she’d consume, as though he had a say. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit. This was a booze cruise, for heaven’s sake. What was his problem?
This tour was going to be about as fun as going on a double date with an older brother. Well, Bran needed to get over himself, because she’d booze it up if she wanted.
Ireland lifted the Corona to her mouth and took a fortifying gulp. She and Cali had planned to Uber it home. She’d stick with that plan and enjoy herself, because God knew she’d need a beer or two to survive her companion.
Bran moved around, getting things ready to depart, and Ireland applied enough sunscreen to coat her pasty skin another shade of white. She watched Bran out of the corner of her eye.
Okay, she ogled. Bad attitude aside, Bran was incredibly sexy, handling the boat chores like a professional. With his T-shirt scrunched up and showing off sexy arms, and board shorts that revealed muscular calves, what wasn’t to like?
The muscles in Bran’s shoulders and back flexed as he moved items around the boat and tucked rope away in secret compartments.
He looked back. “You ready?”
Ireland’s eyes swung up to his face and away from the flex of his ass. “Ready when you are.”
Bran moved to the covered section of the old wooden boat, and the engine roared to life. Ireland glanced over the side and watched the clear water churn from the boat’s propeller.
She kicked off her flip-flops, lifted her feet onto the seat, and lounged. Might as well get comfortable. She tilted her head back so she could see the blue sky, but not too far back. SPF 100 only worked so much magic.
Maybe this outing would turn out okay after all. How bad could things get, cruising a beautiful lake with a beer in hand?
Apparently, very bad.
Chapter 3
Bran was stuck with Ireland, of all people.
This was all Hunt’s fault. He’d been giving Bran a hard time about dating, and now this? Bran didn’t know how his brother had managed it, but somehow Hunt had manipulated Bran into running the booze cruise alone with Ireland.
Bran ranfourrestaurants. He’d needed physical proof of this so-called illness before he committed two hours of his life to helping out Hunt. So he did what any conscientious brother would do, and dragged his ass to Hunt’s house to make sure the idiot was truly sick. But when Hunt had opened the door, his nose was bright red, his eyes were watery, and he looked pale. Even Bran could tell his brother wasn’t lying. That didn’t ease Bran’s frustration. Particularly not after he’d caught sight of Ireland approaching the boat.
Goddammit.
